Fragile Empires
by funga-fu-fu
Summary: They had to go now, because the bombs kept falling and England kept screaming in agony. "Aquí estoy" He repeated and slowly pulled out of the bed, not letting go of Arthur. "Aquí estoy."; [Takes place during the London Blitz and after the Spanish Civil War]; UK/Spain;


Hey, everyone. I was unsure if I should post this fic, but here it is. Written for Shakugan no Shana and the spanish has been edited by espanglishmess. Thank you~

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, not one bit.

 **Warnings:** Mentions of drugs and self abuse; me trying to tackle historical topics X.x

There are some historical notes in the end that should make things clearer. Also this takes place during an established relationship.

Hope you enjoy~

* * *

1940:

Antonio jerked awake. He didn't know what woke him up. The room was too dark to see, too silent to hear. No light or sound touched the soft bed he was lying in. He wasn't sure where he was or how long he had been here. That was alright, though. He wasn't sure about a lot of things these days. The only thing he knew for certain was that his body was tearing apart. Shards of pain stabbed his chest and fragmented his being into pieces. He wasn't allowed to talk about this.

A sudden explosion of light revealed the room around him. The only thing he managed to see were curtains draped around the bed before a sharp scream pierced through the fog in his brain. He was in Arthur's home and London was being bombed.

"No, no, no!" Arthur yelled and Antonio had to grab his hands before he could start clawing at his chest. How many times had they done this now? "Make it stop!" The blond sobbed and Antonio could only gather him in his arms. There was nothing he could do.

"Estás bien." [You're alright] He whispered. "Estamos bien." [We're alright].

Another bomb fell and the ground shook. This one had been much closer. Arthur flailed in his embrace, his hands straining against Antonio's grip, trying to get to his chest. His heart.

They were getting closer. More light came through the window and this time the whole house shook.

"¡Vámonos!" [We're going!]Antonio snapped and got up. He didn't get far. Two wiry hands grabbed him by the clothes and pulled at him.

"Don't go!" Arthur hitched and it sounded so broken Antonio could barely recognize his voice.

"Aquí estoy." [I'm here.] He whispered and turned to hug the other. They had to go now, because the bombs kept falling and England kept spasming in agony. "Aquí estoy" He repeated and slowly pulled out of the bed, not letting go of Arthur. "Aquí estoy." He said once again, kissing the other on the forehead and using the moment to lift him up along with the blankets.

Arms clutched at his neck, keeping him in an iron grip. Antonio had no intentions of letting go. He wasn't sure of a lot of things these days like how he got here or how long he'd been here, but that was one thing he knew. He wasn't letting go of Arthur.

They had managed to get out of the room and on the stairs by the time the next bomb hit the ground.

"No, no, no!" Arthur started sobbing again and tried to curl in on himself. Antonio lost his grip on him and had to grab for the blankets before the other fell on the ground. He tossed his precious bundle on his shoulder and quickly made it to the bottom of the stairs. Arthur was shaking and sobbing against him, but didn't object to his cocoon of darkness and warmth.

Antonio kicked the back door open and thanked God when he saw the entrance to the bombshell. His gratitude died on his lips as he saw the city around him. London was burning. Fire reached towards the sky and the roaring of motor engines and guns cut through the night. The sky was crawling with German airplanes, raining death on England's heart. The houses down the street were already crumbling into debris and the fire had started licking at the fence of Arthur's yard. They had to move. Antonio stayed rooted at his spot, watching a flock of airplanes circling above them. The roar of the engines drowned the world, interrupted only by the high pitched sound of metal cutting through air.

Arthur screamed and trashed so hard Antonio lost his grip on the blankets. This time he didn't wait for the wave of pain to be over. It wasn't going to be over. He just scooped the blond off the ground, along with his blankets and dived inside the bombshell. He barely made those last few steps to the bed and almost dropped Arthur on it. He didn't search for a light, he just got on the small mattress and grabbed the other to press him against his own body. Antonio started rocking them gently and his voice rasped as he sung.

"Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol, arrorró pedazo de mi corazón. Este niño lindo se quiere dormir y el pícaro sueño no quiere venir..." [Sleep well my child, sleep well my sun, sleep well piece of my heart. This pretty child wants to sleep, but the impish sleep doesn't want to come...]

* * *

The next time Antonio woke up Arthur was sitting beside him on a small bed. The blond had discarded his jacket, loosened his tie and rolled back his sleeves. He was sucking hard on a cigarette and a bottle full of clear alcohol, along with some pannikins sat on a table in front of him.

Antonio leaned up on his elbow to take a look of their surroundings. A few candles were lit around a room he couldn't recognize. It was a pitiful thing, overstuffed with books and food cans. Arthur seemed to notice him as he moved, but didn't say anything. He just reached for the bottle in front of him and filled a second pannikin that he handed over. Antonio spun the clear liquid inside. Now he knew that alcohol, coffee and luxury were just a part of the long list of things that wasted the body. The gin tasted expensive and oh so good.

They had almost reached the bottom of the bottle when Arthur finally spoke up.

"Either undress or get out." He bit out without even looking at the brunette.

Antonio looked down at his cloths. He supposed it was the shirt that offended Arthur. It bore the dark blue color and emblem of his new boss. He had lost his red beret somewhere along the way. His pants were plain black.

"No te preocupes. Está bien." [Don't worry. It's fine.] Antonio said, taking another gulp from his almost empty pannikin.

"It's fine?" Arthur laughed and there was something distinctively off about the sound. It ended on an almost hysterical note. "Nothing is fine."

"España está bien." [Spain is alright.] Antonio answered almost by reflex. Pain numbed his face. Arthur was glaring at him, his hand held high.

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that!" The blond screamed the last part, grabbing him by the collar.

"Pero es la verdad." [But it's the truth.] Antonio shrugged. He couldn't admit to anything else. Another blow made his face sting. That was also alright. It was just a drop in an ocean of pain.

"You bloody idiot!" Arthur was on him in less than a heartbeat, pulling at his collar. A few buttons flew on the side, but the shirt remained stubbornly in place. "How can you let him do this to you! Nothing is alright! You are not alright! Fight!" Arthur screamed, shaking him with as much strength as his weak body had left. Another hard blow landed on his face. Antonio let him. A part of him reasoned that it would be better for Arthur to let out his pain this way than to claw at his own chest. The other part, the one that he wasn't allowed to have, felt relief that someone actually had the courage to say what he had been thinking. "Fight, damn you!" Arthur pulled even harder at his shirt and Antonio felt cold sweat gather on his skin. He pushed at Arthur, quickly reversing their positions.

"¿De qué hablas? Lo único que hiciste fue quedarte mirando" [What are you saying now? You just stood and watched.] Arthur's eyes widened at the accusation. He looked as if Antonio had hit him in return. Then his eyes narrowed at the cross dangling from the brunet's chest. He caught it with nimble fingers and yanked it. Antonio didn't resist. Those hard green eyes had pinned him in place. He shivered. For a moment he was sure that if Arthur was in any condition to do so he would have laid him down and stripped him from all symbols, claimed him as his own.

"You're right." Arthur said throwing the cross away. "España está bien, because you're nothing now."

Antonio was kicked to the side. He watched as Arthur got up and went to one of the few cupboards in the room. Maybe those words hurt. He wasn't sure. His whole being was already splitting in two from pain. How was he supposed to notice something as insignificant as a few more drops of hurt?

Arthur returned with a box of white ivory, decorated with green emerald. Inside it was powdered cocaine. Antonio didn't refuse when he was offered.

* * *

Antonio opened his eyes to see chipped paint on a dark ceiling. How long had he been here? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about a lot of things these days. Arthur was on his lap, his fingers tracing the skin below his collarbone. Antonio knew this, because he couldn't feel the touch. The blond's eyes were transfixed by the patch of burnt of skin and his fingertips caressed it over and over again. He might have been doing this for hours, Antonio wasn't sure. Then their eyes met and Arthur sobbed.

"I'm sorry." He said and leaned down to kiss the spot "I'm so sorry." He said it over and over again between gentle kisses. Antonio liked to imagine it that way. He wasn't sure. He couldn't feel anything. He could only see the chipped ceiling. "I tried to help. I wanted to help so much. They wouldn't let me." Fists curled in his shirt and this seemed to be the only push that the buttons needed, because they gaped open, revealing his chest. The blond stopped breathing and Antonio couldn't blame him. There was a reason why he had wanted for this part of him to remain hidden.

Tears started falling on open wounds. They slid down his chest and towards his heart. Madrid remained raw and open. Just when he thought that a wound would finally close it ripped open even more painful than before. Pain branded his skins, tracing the path between Madrid and Toledo, and Barcelona, Valencia, Bilbao, Málaga and Guernica. Everywhere in between and everywhere outside.

"How could you let him do this?" Arthur repeated, much more quietly, kissing that patch of unfeeling skin over and over again. "You should have fought. You should fight. You can't honestly agree to this. "

Antonio's fingers twined through blond locks and he squeezed Arthur's jaw to make him look up.

"No digas eso. No ahora. Si lo haces tendré que sacarte los ojos. Cortarte la lengua. Sacarte el corazón." [Don't say that. Not now. If you do I will have to gouge out your eyes. Cut off your tongue. Pull out your heart.]" Antonio whispered, caressing Arthur's eyelids, his lips and down towards his heart.

"Then do it." Green eyes looked at him pleadingly. "It would be mercy." He said and pushed Antonio's hand in his shirt where London lay just as raw and open as Madrid.

Then he doubled over and started screaming again. Antonio pulled him against his bloody chest and kept him in place with his legs. He rasped sea shanties of times long gone in Arthur's ear. They echoed empty off the walls of the small bomb shell.

* * *

The next time Antonio came about Arthur was leaning against the wall. His shirt was open and bloody. The blond pressed a cigarette against his lips. His face and hands were covered in his own blood. Dead, dull eyes turned to look at Antonio.

"I'm going to kill him." He said simply.

"Ah…" Antonio answered nonchalantly. He leaned towards the spilled cocaine Arthur had gorged himself on.

* * *

 **Historical Notes:**

-The story takes place in 1940 in London when England is under a German air raid also an year after the Spanish Civil War;

\- The Civil War took place between 1937 and 1939; the people were divided in two - the left and the right; the right won and Franciso Franco became a dictator;

-The other countries left Spain to its faith; UK didn't help while the Civil War was happening, yet a number of British soldiers decided to help; at one point it was a crime in the UK to help Spain and fight against Franco;

\- Franco killed everyone who opposed him (and kept killing them even after the Civil War was over) and enforced heavy censorship; that's why Antonio has trouble remembering or saying anything that opposes his boss; when he threatens Arthur he's just repeating what happens to the opposition;

\- Antonio speaks Spanish in the fic because Spain was under extreme isolation at the time

\- Religion was an essential part of Franco's rule

\- Antonio's apathy towards his own state is due to the fact that the Spanish waited for Franco to die to change the system; they didn't take him down from power or kill him

\- España esta bien/Spain is alright is a political slogan from the time

\- They do cocaine because both countries are the leading consumers here in the EU

\- At the end where Arthur says I'm going to kill him he is referring to Germany; later in the World War Britain does bomb Germany

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I hope you enjoyed, please review and tell me what you think ^_^


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